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by Hinotorihime
Summary: It is a dark and stormy night, and Ivan Braginsky is about to get the biggest shock of his life. [RusLith, bitty!Latvia. Russia is clueless about children and Ukraine is Highly Amused.]
1. Ukraine, you're not really helping

**I told myself I was going to work on** ** _uninstall_** **and this happened instead. I have no idea if I'm even going to continue this.**

 **Have I published a Hetalia fic yet that _doesn't_ have Lithuania in it? *checks profile* Nope. How am I still so bad at writing him? I swear, I use a different characterization for him in everything I write. ONE DAY, LIET. IT'S COMING.**

 **Also, Shadows: book club. *wink wink* [Also _, don't google "quotes from bad romance novels". It will scar you for life.]_  
**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers: Hetalia. I do own my computer and the idea for this... whatever it is.  
**

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets, rattling along the housetops...

Ivan Braginsky didn't notice. He had a fire going, a patchwork quilt tucked around his legs, the scarf his sister had given him for his birthday wrapped snugly about his neck, the moose sweater his other sister had given him for Christmas vaguely scratchy against his arms, a glass of hot chocolate on the table beside him, and a book cradled in his large hand. Because he was home alone, he hadn't even bothered to wrap it in the book jacket labelled "Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman", like he usually did. The actual cover, now bared proudly to the world, was sickly pink, covered with roses, and had flowery cursive writing on it proclaiming that it was the fourteenth book in the "Heavenly Eyes" series, and then something about an angel and teapots and fencing.

The wind shook the window frame loudly. Ivan ignored it. His cocoa was starting to get cold, but it just made the mint flavor stronger, so he took another sip and hummed in satisfaction.

 _Slowly, as if in a dream, she felt his warm hand cup her cheek. Then his chapped lips brushed softly across her mouth, tasting like strawberries and basil. Sonya involuntarily slid her arms around him and leaned into the kiss. Their bodies fitted together like puzzle pieces._

 _Vasiliy never held her this way, she thought fuzzily, how had she not realized that this was what she had been craving all this time? Then she gasped and pulled back, as if she had been doused with ice water.  
_

 _"We- we shouldn't be doing this," she mumbled, and even in the darkness she felt Alexei's stricken look._

"You have to give him a chance!" Ivan exclaimed. "Your husband never really cared for you anyway!"

Vaguely, over the howling of the wind, Ivan became aware of a fretful mewling. He groaned and set the book down next to his cocoa mug. "Boris," he sighed, dislodging himself from his warm, comfortable nest and trudging to the front door to let the cat in. The sudden draft as he yanked the door open was sucked through the hallway as if through a chimney; he flinched and shivered as a spray of rain soaked his hair. Behind him came a disapproving yowl.

"Huh?" Ivan turned and saw the huge grey cat sitting firmly on the carpet, shaking its fur with a growl of complaint.

The wails were still coming from outside. Ivan peered out into the darkness. If Boris wasn't making that noise, than what was? His hand groped on the wall until he found the switch and flicked on the porch light. The illumination was dim, but it was enough to make out a large cardboard box positioned carefully under the eaves with an umbrella taped firmly to the side, evidently an attempt to protect the contents of the box from the elements. Ivan picked up the box - it hardly weighed anything - and slammed the door shut again, shaking water out of his hair.

He examined the package. The lid had been taped down to the sides, at odds with the probable reasoning behind the umbrella - why would anyone make such an obvious effort to keep the box dry and yet leave it open? The box was apparently crammed full of blankets, and he wondered who could have-

Another piercing wail emanated from the box. Gingerly, Ivan reached out and flipped back the corner of one of the blankets. Huge, tearful blue eyes met his as the infant drew in a breath.

Ivan sank to his knees numbly.

Someone had left a baby on his doorstep.

Someone had left a _baby_ on his doorstep.

What on earth was he supposed to do with a _baby_ of all things?

.

Ivan would have made a panicky phone call to his older sister, but the storm, it seemed, had knocked out the telephone lines. Instead he knelt on the floor next to the box and carefully lifted the child out of its nest of quilts. Its tiny pink mouth worked frantically. _It wants something. Food?_ Ivan glanced doubtfully at his cocoa mug. The baby didn't seem to have any teeth, so the candy canes were out and not that nutritious anyway, but hot chocolate had milk in it. Babies liked milk, didn't they? Awkwardly, he shifted the infant into the crook of his left arm, stiffening when it wriggled. _What if I drop it and it breaks?_ With agonizing slowness, he tipped the mug into its mouth; it coughed and spluttered and started crying again. Ivan winced. Obviously that was not going to work.

It took a few tries, but eventually he settled on dipping his fingers into the by-now quite cold hot cocoa and letting the baby suck the sweet liquid off. Amazingly, the infant began to yawn, small tongue flickering out to lick up drops of cocoa from its lips, and suddenly it was asleep, or at least pretending to be. Ivan put it carefully down on the floor and turned back to the box. Maybe there were instructions? Like there had been in the box for his new microwave?

Unpacking the blankets took ages - at least he knew why the baby hadn't frozen to death. Underneath the linens, at the bottom of the box, were several plastic bags. He turned them out. Wipes, diapers, packets of something labeled 'baby formula', plastic cups with markings on them and strange lids made of rubber. And in the last bag, a sheaf of papers. He pounced on them.

The first few were, indeed, instructions. Detailed notes on how to change a diaper ( _'you'll want to grab both ankles at the same time and lift his legs up so you can get his back'_ ). How to mix formula (' _test it on the inside of your wrist first. If it feels hot to you, it'll burn the baby'_ ). And one sheet with a sketch of the strange lidded cups, labeled neatly as ' _this is a baby bottle. The rubber nipple goes in his mouth and he sucks it. Don't fill it more than 16 oz full and remember it's going to leak a little'._ Then a diagram of how to fit the lid onto the bottle. Oh. Silently, he blessed the thoughtfulness of whoever-it-was, before remembering that the same whoever-it-was had left a baby on his doorstep in the first place and therefore did not actually deserve blessing.

The last paper was not instructions.

He stared at it for a long time before he worked up the courage to read it because it was obviously a letter and worse, the handwriting looked vaguely familiar although he couldn't think where from, and he was _not ready for t_ _his_.

Finally his curiosity got the better of him.

* * *

 _Dear Ivan,_

 _Do you know, I almost wrote Vanya there, the way I used to. But I realize I've probably lost that right by now._

 _I don't even know what to say, where to start, and I feel so, so horrible for taking advantage of you like this... but you are the only person in this world whom I trust, and I know you and I know you never break your promises, and you did promise me all those years ago. "_ If you ever need me I will be there, _" you said, and I don't know if you remember but I do._

 _Have you moved on, Ivan? I hope so, I really hope so because of all people you deserve to be happy and not have a stupid girl and her petty drama poison your life. I really hope you don't even remember - goodness, how long has it been? Five years? Six? Seven? Since you finally worked up the nerve to confess to me and I turned you down flat? You'd better not still be mooning over me, Ivan, I know what a romantic you are and I saw your face when I said no. That weird face you make when you're trying not to cry. And all you said was "Oh. I see." Then you tried to pretend it hadn't ever happened and that it hadn't completely ruined our friendship and - Ivan? You have no idea, absolutely no idea how hard that was. All I wanted was to take it back, I wanted so badly to take you in my arms and let you kiss me, because I had a lot of reasons for rejecting you but_ not loving you _wasn't ever one of them._

 _And now for those same reasons I can't keep Raivis with me anymore. It's too dangerous for him just as it would have been too dangerous for you. Ivan, I don't expect you to raise him. Put him up for adoption if you wish - if you feel it'll be better for him. I love him so much and I never wanted things to come to this, but I know I can trust you to somehow make sure he's taken care of._

 _Please?_

 _I understand if you hate me, if you think we're not that close anymore - if we were never that close - when you said 'if you need me' I know you didn't mean something like this. But whatever you feel toward me will you put it aside? For Raivis' sake? He didn't deserve a mother who would have to do something like this. Because no matter how much I try to justify it I am abandoning him and I will never forgive myself for it. (Any more than I will forgive myself for what I did to you. I loved you so much it hurt and I couldn't even make you smile.)_

 _I would sign this 'love', like I always did. But that would be too presumptuous of me when I've already presumed far too much._

 _Viltė_

* * *

Ivan gripped the paper tightly in his shaking hands. Four years since they'd seen each other. No word for four years and now this? For he remembered, oh how he remembered, Viltė with her soft brown hair and sunny eyes and that sweet smile that once he would have done anything to see.

Blinking, he realized he had missed a hurried postscript:

 _I don't know how legally binding this is, but hopefully it'll help things go more smoothly?_

 _I, Viltė Laurinaitytė, transfer full guardianship and full custody of my son Raivis (born November 18, 2001) to Ivan Zimavich Braginskiy. I am of sound mind and under no coercion from Mr Braginskiy to do this._

And then the scrawled signature that had been as familiar to him as his own.

 _He had loved her. He knew he had loved her, that it was no childish infatuation, and what was worse was she knew it too._ The sorrow in her eyes when she'd rejected him had been his only comfort as he tried to forget about her, as the days went on and they pretended to keep the friendship they'd had since kindergarten. She had dropped out of school a month later, dropped off of the face of the earth for all he'd heard from her or of her. And now he knelt on his kitchen floor staring at an anguished plea to take care of-

 _Viltė's son,  
_ said the part of him that was an incurable romantic and to tell the truth had never quite forgotten about her.

 _He's not even yours! How dare she dump this on you?_ said the other part - quite a large part, really, but he hesitated, because he didn't like to break promises and surely there was something he could do. Maybe the police could help take the child off his hands, she'd said that was alright, I know nothing about babies, it would be far better for everyone.

Then he made the mistake of looking down.

Raivis stirred on his lap, tiny fingers curling into the softness of his scarf. Long pale lashes fluttered on the infant's cheeks as the big blue eyes half-opened.

"gan," the little boy bubbled, and closed his eyes again. "ha."

Ivan sighed.

"I suppose we'd better get you a crib," he said, a little glumly.

* * *

"Oh, _Vanechka_ ," was his sister's response when he called her the next morning. Raivis had woken up far earlier than any human being had a right to be awake and was fretting because- because- well, to be honest Ivan had no idea why the baby was fretting, which was of course the problem.

"Katyusha," he begged, "You can say whatever you want later, but please, please, just come over? I have no clue what I'm doing!"

"Obviously."

She showed up not five minutes later, to find Ivan trying to figure out the workings of a disposable diaper, although at least the child had calmed down. She did a poor job of removing the smirk from her face, ushered her brother into the bathroom, and said:

"Clean up and go talk to the police. I'll take care of..."

"Raivis," he supplied instantly. Katya smirked again.

"Getting attached, are we?"

"Shut. Up." He swept out of the house with what he thought was a fair amount of dignity, then had to race back in with rather less dignity to put some matching shoes on. (Matching _socks_ were unimportant, he decided, halfway to the police station. He really didn't want to go back and face the gauntlet of Katya's amusement again.)

"Laurinaitis?" said the policeman, examining the letter with an eyebrow raised. Ivan stared fascinatedly at said eyebrow. It looked like one of those fuzzy black caterpillars that ate his sunflower plants in summer if he didn't spray. Had Officer Churchman or whatever his name was tried using pesticides? He knew that they didn't always work. "There was a murder case a few years ago involving a Laurinaitis. We kept it fairly low profile because we suspected Mafia involvement. I wonder... you said you were good friends with Viltė?"

"I didn't even know she was pregnant. We hadn't contacted each other since... '97, I think? She wasn't in any relationships that I was aware of; that doesn't mean much, though - she was pretty secretive about her family and her personal life. I was her best friend and she still didn't trust me with anything, really."

"She obviously trusted you a bit more than you thought," Officer Eyebrows said drily. "I'll be frank with you. This is a very strange situation; however, I'm inclined to go with it. Since the mother has made her wishes so clear, I don't think this truly counts as abandonment, and your preliminary background check is totally clean. We'll run some more, and there's a lot of red tape involved in actually adopting, but for now I can't think of a reason you can't foster the infant."

Ivan opened his mouth to say something, but the door slammed open with probably more force than strictly necessary and a blond raced in shouting and then there was a lot of confusion while Ivan faded quietly into the background.

Officer Eyebrows finally turned to him with a grim face. "Officer Jones just got back from the bridge downtown. They found a body in the river - female, early twenties, brown hair, green eyes. I'd like you to come with me, see if it's - if you can help us identify her. It would explain a lot if..."

Ivan went, and it was Viltė.

Her face was peaceful, mouth curved up in a slight smile. It was a little at odds with the gaping hole in the back of her head where the bullet had entered, and the river water hadn't quite washed all the blood out of her soft brown locks.

"So what were your reasons, then?" he murmured. "Was this one of them?"

She didn't answer. There were rope marks on her wrists, the policemen said, and her back was laid open almost to the bone with knife wounds. Ivan wondered if she looked happy because she'd saved her son. Viltė had never cared that much about herself.

* * *

 **Um... cute and fluffy turns serious at the end! Yay!**

 **Ivan, you're so adorable. :)**

 **I think I'll add another chapter of this at some point, with some scenes from Raivis' gloriously messed-up childhood with Ivan and probably an explanation of what the heck happened to Viltė. Spoiler: lots of angst. Poor Liet. :I Oh yeah! I picked Viltė as Lithuania's female name after I read a story that used it instead of the rather-more-popular 'Viktorija', mostly because I liked it better :) It's a very common name for girls in Lithuania, and literally means 'hope'.  
**

 **This is another story you can credit to my incredibly boring job and my tendency to do my daydreaming with a pencil in my hand. Also I'm still having trouble figuring out how to write Lithuania, either male or female, and I figured making him/her a posthumous character would help with that. (It didn't.) And the cute adorkable Russia who appears here and in _Hands_ has been dubbed by me, "Pechka!Russia" and if you haven't listened to that song yet, go listen to it RIGHT NOW.  
**


	2. Gratuitous Russian is gratuitous

**Aunts and Uncle**

* * *

 **I did some cursory research on Russian hypocoristic forms and I _think_ that the way it works is that the more suffixes you add, the closer your relationship. _Ivan_ is the full form, which he would use with his full name (including patronymic). _Vanya_ is the 'short' form, and can be used with the last name, but not the patronymic. His sisters use a 'diminutive' form (which isn't really a diminutive because it's longer than the name it's based off of, but whatever): ******_Vanechka_ , which is much more intimate and affectionate**. I think in English, you could equate all of this to: **

**John Samuel Smith - full name.**

 **Johnny Smith - technically a nickname, but still acceptable for use with your last name. But you wouldn't use your middle name, right?**

 **Johnny-boy - only your family and really close friends would call you this, and you would never use it with your last name.**

 **(Obviously those aren't exact equivalents.)**

 **Based on this understanding, I am using the following for the girls:**

 **Yekaterina [full], Katya [short], Katyusha [diminutive], and Katya in the narration (for aesthetic reasons)**

 **Natalya [full], Natasha [short], Tashen'ka [diminutive], and Natalya in the narration (also for aesthetic reasons)**

 **If you speak Russian and my understanding of this is incorrect, PLEASE, _PLEASE_ let me know so I can fix it. **

**(Also, if you can think of a way to nickname _Raivis_ , which is definitely... not a Russian name, I'd appreciate it.)**

* * *

Natalya stared at the baby.

The baby stared back for a bit. Then he burst into tears.

"Tashen'ka! Stop scowling, you're scaring him!"

Ivan hurried over to where his younger sister was leaning over the crib and scooped Raivis up, murmuring soothingly. Natalya snorted and tossed her head.

"Hmph. He has you wrapped around his little finger already."

Ivan bounced the little boy up and down and said absently, "Yes, his fingers are so tiny and fat and cute... aren't they, _moy myshonok_?"

Raivis continued to sniffle.

"Oh, give him here!" Natalya said impatiently, snatching the infant away from her brother. Raivis swallowed a squeak of terror as his new aunt settled him carefully into her arms and pressed her nose to his downy head.

"Hush, child..." she whispered. "There is nothing to be afraid of. Totya Natasha will protect you from scary things, da?"

"buh," the baby bubbled, and snuggled into her chest. Natalya raised her head slightly and bared her teeth at her brother, who threw up his hands.

"Yes! Alright! I'm hopeless! You don't have to rub it in! _Stop laughing, Katyusha, you're not even trying to help!_ "

"Well, Tashen'ka seems to have things under control," Katya told him, completely failing to suppress her giggles. "Purl...three, then... was it knit two or one?"

Ivan stuck out his tongue in a stunning display of maturity. Both women ignored him.

"Look," he said, "I am fully aware that I have no idea what I'm doing. But really, does any new parent? I thought I would at least be able to count on you two to help me out. I was hoping...you know, that I wouldn't end up doing this by myself."

"You ought to get married," said Natalya speculatively. Her brother went pale and began to inch away from her. Natalya rolled her eyes. "Vanechka, I was _six_. I don't want to marry you anymore."

"You threatened me with a _knife_. You forced me to buy you a plastic ring with the last of my pocket money and propose to you on one knee!"

"And very sweet it was too." Katya tied on another roll of yarn.

"If you ignored that I was _shaking in terror_."

"Hush!" Natalya scolded. "Baby's falling asleep. You'll wake him." She nuzzled the tiny neck. "I love babies," she said softly. "I wish... I would like children of my own one day."

"You're young yet, Tashen'ka," said Katya. "You've still got plenty of time. Someday you'll find some poor unsuspecting fool, sweep him off his feet, and carry him off to a little cottage in the woods with a white picket fence and a flower garden. Literally, if I know you."

Natalya nodded seriously. "I hadn't thought about having a garden. Good idea, Katyusha." Both of her siblings blanched. "For now," the young woman continued, laying Raivis carefully back down in the cradle, "I will have to settle for making sure Vanechka doesn't accidentally kill this poor infant the way he killed that goldfish you got him."

"I was seven. Years. Old." Ivan plumped sulkily onto the bed beside Katya, then yelped when her knitting needle stabbed his forearm. He shot both of his sisters a baleful look, rubbing the scratch. "Why do you always tease me like this? I've never done anything to you."

"Besides burn my favorite doll?" said Natalya.

"And rub peanut butter into my hair so I had to cut it all off? I was crying for days," said Katya.

"And refuse to let me play in in your _top secret_ clubhouse because I was a girl?"

"And pinch me every chance you got?"

"And tell me in graphic detail about the monster that lived under my bed?"

"And blow that stupid soccer whistle in my ear when I was doing my homework?"

"And try to sabotage my first date?"

"And-"

"But I'm your brother! Those are practically requirements!" Ivan protested. "You already got me back for all of them, anyway."

"And we are your sisters," Katya concluded, winding up her yarn neatly. "And it is _our_ job to make sure you never live any of it down. And it was a really _loud_ whistle."

"Do you think Raivis would like a whistle?" Natalya said hopefully.

"Wait 'til he's a bit older, dear," her sister advised. "He'd just try to eat it right now. He'd probably choke."

"Choke my son," Ivan said, "and I will make you wish that monster had gotten to you first."

Katya started laughing again.

* * *

The tall blond knelt and looked Raivis in the eye.

"Hallo," he said.

Raivis clutched Ivan's pantleg for dear life. Ivan growled protectively.

"My name is Eduard. I'm going to be your new uncle," Eduard continued calmly. "Your name's Raivis, right? How old are you, Raivis?"

Shyly, Raivis held out a chubby fist with two fingers raised.

"That many? Wow, you're a big boy, huh?"

Raivis nodded.

"He doesn't talk yet," Katya said anxiously."He babbled a lot when he was little, but now he barely makes any noise. We're starting to get worried that there's something wrong."

"I'm sure he'll talk in his own time," Eduard told her confidently. "I have a nephew who's his age, and he's just barely started himself." He turned back to the child, who was peeping out from behind his father's leg. "Are you nervous, Raivis? New people are scary, huh?"

Raivis blinked. Eduard-the-nice-man was standing awfully close to Totya Katya, he thought. He hoped she wouldn't try to pick him up and snuggle him, the way she did to Raivis. He didn't think Eduard-the-nice-man would like that.

Katya saw his apprehensive look and tried to clarify.

"Raivis, sweetie, I'm going to get married to Mr von Bock."

Raivis furrowed his tiny brow. He knew 'married' - Totya Natasha said it a lot, when she wanted to be mean to Papa - but he didn't know what a mister-von-bock was.

"I'm Mr von Bock," Eduard laughed, and the little boy shook his head. He didn't like it when Totya Katya lied to him, and Eduard-the-nice-man was obviously too nice and was going along with the lie so he wouldn't make Totya Katya cry like she always did when she wanted something. Well, Raivis wasn't going to let her get away with it.

"Raivis, what are you doing?" Ivan was ignored as the baby toddled toward the kneeling blond, holding out a tiny hand with a determined look on his round face. Eduard gently took the offered hand and solemnly shook it.

"Dya," the boy said firmly. "Ed-dawd."

Ivan's jaw dropped. So did Katya's.

"Yes, I'm Dyadya Eduard. Pleased to meet you, Raivis."

Raivis plumped down in Eduard's lap and buried his head in the man's chest. Dyadya Eduard smelled good, like the pinecones from the tree in the backyard that Raivis wasn't allowed to eat. It smelled safe and homelike.

Katya swooped down and grabbed her fiance in a suffocating hug.

"Oh, I don't believe this! You got him to talk! Oh, _Edya_ -"

"Can't - breathe -" Eduard gasped, holding Raivis safely out of reach.

Ivan looked a little lost.

"But... I wanted his first word to be 'Papa'..." he said sadly.

Raivis wriggled a little, until Eduard extricated himself from the Hug and set him gently down.

"Go ahead, Raivis," he whispered. Raivis looked straight at Ivan and said clearly:

"Papa."

Then he squeaked and scurried back to Eduard. He could see another Hug in Katya's eyes.

* * *

 ** _Aunts..._ **

**moy myshonok [мой мышонок]: a Russian endearment that literally translates to 'my mouse'**

 **Totya Natasha [тётя Наташа]: Aunt Natasha**

 **Who will Natalya end up 'sweeping off his feet'? I have no idea! Cast your votes!**

 **For the record, Russia and Ukraine do not have official human ages; Belarus is canonically physically 19.**

 **I have never, thank goodness, had an older brother. I do have several younger ones, and a bunch of little sisters as well. Suffice to say, most of Ivan's listed crimes are based on actual incidents perpetrated either on or by myself.**

 **I had a goldfish once. Her name was Cleopatra. We had to give her away to the neighbors when we moved. I was _heartbroken._**

* * *

 ** _..and Uncle_**

 **Dyadya [дядя]: Uncle**

 **Edya [Эдя]: One of the diminutive forms for Эдуард.**

 **...and from then on, the only question anyone had was, "How do you get this kid to _shut up_?!"**

 **Most babies say their first word at around 18 months, but there's so much variation between children that you really shouldn't get worried unless they're four or five and still only babbling.**

 **I have this weird headcanon that each of the Nations has a unique scent. Estonia smells like pine trees, because his country is known for its coniferous forests. Lithuania smells vaguely herby, Latvia of seawater, Russia a little metallic (ever smelled snow? It smells, as Terry Pratchett put it, like the taste of tin), and Ukraine's scent is like fresh bread.**

 **Writing from a baby's point of view is really fun. :)**

* * *

 **Next chapter: "Meeting the Cousins and School Daze, or, Wasn't this Supposed to be a One-shot?"**


	3. Wasn't this supposed to be a one-shot?

**Meeting the Cousins**

* * *

 **First of all, I know I said this part would have the school stuff in it... but this part ended up being really long and the school stuff is going to be even longer and I'm leaving for Arizona today and don't know if I'll have internet access and I wanted to just get the chapter posted before I leave. So 'School Daze' will be the next chapter, then probably some summer stuff (someone remind me about the bike, okay?) and then things will get a little serious. Finally.**

 **At least, that's what I'm thinking right now. Obviously this is subject to change.**

* * *

 **Here is a fabulous place to introduce some more naming things. First of all,** ** **I'm going ahead and using Braginskiy as Raivis' last name rather than Galante. And Heidi is Liechtenstein.****

 **The names I usually use for the Nordics are:**

 **Finland - Tino Väinämöinen**

 **Sweden - Berwald Oxenstierna**

 **Denmark -** **Søren Arnesen**

 **Norway - Lukas Bondevik**

 **Iceland -** ** **Eiríkur** Steilsson**

 **However, there are some differences here. First, I have genderbent Finland and Norway. The name I chose for Finland is Aino. It's from the Kalevala, and means 'the only one'. I am going to use Tiril as Norway's female name. I had a Norwegian exchange student in my physics class last year named Tiril. She told me it's a traditional name, but is considered somewhat old-fashioned nowadays, rather like the name Edith or something would be in America.**

 **The last names are kind of messed up because I'm making them all related. Basically, Aino is Eduard's sister and is married to Berwald, so her last name is Oxenstierna and her maiden name was von Bock.** **Søren is Berwald's half-brother, Tiril is his wife,** ** **Eiríkur** is their son.**

 **... and now I get to explain Icelandic names to you all, because I am a nerd who does way more research for her fanfictions than should ever be necessary!**

 **In Iceland, they don't use family names like we do, but rather patronymics. The patronymic is formed by adding -son for boys or -dottir for girls to the genitive form of their father's name. Well, sometimes it's the mother's name instead. Father's name appears to be slightly more common, though. Long story short, in this human AU where Iceland actually has a named father, his last name is, in fact, Sörensson. If he were a girl, her name would be I** **ðunn Sörensdottir. And thus the madness that is human language continues to suck me into its nefarious and inescapable clutches.  
**

* * *

"ED!"

The noise Eduard made, when a tiny, very pregnant blonde barreled into him, nearly knocking him off his feet, could best be described as 'grack!'. He recovered swiftly and twisted around within the caging arms until he was facing the woman and could first pat her on the head and then gently detach her from his waist. Suddenly, Ivan understood how his brother-in-law-to-be could withstand Katya's constant assaults.

"Hey, Aino," the young man said with a smile. "I'm glad you were feeling well enough to make it."

"Are you kidding? Miss my little brother's wedding? Wild horses couldn't keep me away! And you know I'm terrified of horses, so that's saying a lot! Compared to those creatures of the devil, a little morning sickness is _nothing_! Although, to be honest I'm pretty much over the morning sickness by now, it's mostly my back these days. This stupid baby is going to be like a ten-pounder, I swear! Not that I actually think the baby's stupid, of course, it just gets frustrating sometimes when my back hurts and I can't do anything about it because Berwald won't let me take painkillers, and none of my clothes fit anymore - well, they haven't for a while, really - oh, and I keep wanting to eat dirt! It's so gross, but I can't help it! Ber says it's because my body needs nutrients it's not getting from my regular food or something... but it's still super gross, don't you think, Ed?" Ivan stared at her fascinatedly. Had she breathed at all during that rant?

"Hello, Eduard," came a deep rumble from behind them, and Eduard let out a rather unmanly shriek.

"B-berwald!" he gasped. "H-how many times do we have to tell you to make some noise when you're walking?"

"Sorry," the tall, bespectacled man said, face flushing a little.

Aino grinned at him cheekily. "We don't want to give Ed a heart attack the day of his wedding, do we? Wait 'til after the honeymoon, at least. Honeymoons are _fun_ , Ed. You'll die happy."

"I wasn't planning on dying at all." Eduard smoothed his suit and turned to Ivan with an amused smirk. "Ivan, this is my older sister and her husband, Berwald and Aino Oxenstierna. Aino, this is Katya's brother, Ivan Braginskiy. Where's Raivis, Ivan?"

"He's with Katya and Natasha in the dressing room. Raivis is my little boy," he added proudly for the benefit of Eduard's siblings. "He's almost three."

Aino brightened even further. "Why don't I run get him and we can have him meet Eiríkur? I'm sure they'd get along splendidly. I wanted to talk to Katya anyway."

Eduard blanched. "The Arnesens are here?" he said faintly.

"Søren insisted," Berwald growled.

"Oh dear," was Eduard's response.

"What's wrong, Eduard?" Ivan asked. Eduard grimaced.

"You are about to meet the reason I put up with _your_ insane family members so well," he said. "Berwald, please tell me he-"

"HEYHEYHEY! Eddy, my boy! Do I feel my ears burning?" was all the warning anyone got before Eduard was launched across the room under the force of the most jovial backslap Ivan had ever witnessed.

"Hello, Søren..." Eduard coughed glumly. "Nice to know you're feeling... healthy."

"I'm always healthy, dude! You think a germ's gonna dare invade this body?"

"Shut up, you fool," came a bored-sounding, surprisingly deep female voice. "No one wants to hear it."

Mrs Arnesen had long, pale hair, bound back from her face with a silver hairpin. A tiny boy trailed behind her, clutching a stuffed animal. "It's nice to see you again, Eduard, especially in such pleasant circumstances," she intoned.

"It's lovely to see you again, too, Tiril, Eiríkur. Did you want to talk to Katyusha?"

"Hm." Tiril lifted one elegant brow. "Where is she?"

"Dressing room. What do we do with Søren while you're gone?"

"I usually tie him to a chair," she deadpanned, ignoring her husband's cry of protest. "There's rope in the back of the car if you get desperate." Ivan laughed; no one else did.

"Was... was that not a joke?" he asked. No one answered. Berwald grabbed the other man by his spiky hair and dragged him out of the room.

* * *

Raivis stared at the ground.

The little white-haired boy clutched his stuffed bird.

Raivis coughed.

"ah... you hair white?" he blurted out. The other boy regarded him coolly.

"Mama say pa- patmum bond," he explained in a condescending voice. "Only old people hair are white. You are fool."

"I not fool!" Raivis kicked his cousin hard in the shin, and the boy stumbled back in surprise. "You 'tupid! I no like you! You- you meaniepants!"

"No, you are meaniepants!" the other boy retorted. "Mister Puffin say you are and Mister Puffin are always right!"

"Who Mi'ter Puffin?" asked Raivis curiously. With a suspicious look, the other boy motioned to the stuffed animal nestled in his small arms.

"Mister Puffin," he said proudly, "are my friend. He are from _Iceland_."

"Iceland," Raivis echoed.

"Iceland are really cold. Only people who there are strong people who not are crybaby. Like Vikings!"

"Papa telled me Vikings!" said Raivis excitedly. "Sail on oc-osh- on sea in big big boat and turn to bear! I want be Viking!"

The other boy seemed to ponder this. "Are you crybaby?" he inquired.

" _No!_ "

"Then we be Vikings together," he decided. He stuck out the chubby hand that was not holding Mister Puffin. "I are Eiríkur."

"I Raivis." They solemnly shook hands.

.

 _Here, for the benefit of readers without experience of small children, is a translation of Raivis and Eiríkur's conversation:_

 _"Excuse me, young master, but I cannot help but notice that your hair appears to be white. Am I correct in so assuming?"_

 _"According to my mother, the shade is, in fact, referred to as 'platinum blond'. It has been scientifically proven that only the elderly have such little pigment in their hair that it can be properly called 'white', as you would know if you were at all educated."_

 _"Education means nothing if one is incapable of being civil. I am beginning to form a strong distaste for your arrogant personality, based on your cruel and unbecoming treatment of someone who was attempting to become friends with you!"_

 _"By physically harming me, you are merely escalating the situation further; if anyone is acting unbecomingly, it is you. Mr Puffin agrees with me on this matter, and I hold his opinion in the highest of regards."_

 _"May I inquire as to the identity of this 'Mr Puffin'?"_

 _"Mr Puffin is one of my oldest and dearest companions. He originally hails from the country of Iceland."_

 _"Iceland? I do not believe I have ever heard of such a place."_

 _"It is a marvelous country, but the climate is a harsh one. It takes a strong man to survive amid the snow and ice that give the nation its name. The Vikings who discovered it were, of course, such men, and have always been my role models."_

 _"What a coincidence! The great esteem that I, too, hold for those brave warriors stems from the stories my surrogate father told me in my youth. They were such entrancing tales: tales of the shape-changing berserkers that roamed the ocean in great warships, invoking the blessing of Odin upon themselves and a curse against their enemies. I must confess that I have always harbored a certain desire to emulate them."_

 _"That would be a difficult matter. One must be bold to do such a thing; warriors cannot afford weakness."_

 _"Weakness would never dare to overtake my spirit, friend."_

 _"Then in the name of Odin, we will follow in the footsteps of our ancestors, as companions - nay, as brothers! My name is Eiríkur. I am honored to make your acquaintance."_

 _"The honor, sir, is all mine. Please, call me Raivis. Shall we go forth, then, and inform our respective parents that we will henceforth be the most inseparable of friends?"_

* * *

 **Small children. EEK THE CUTENESS.  
**

 **Everything Aino says about pregnancy is true, according to my mom. Morning sickness has usually stopped by the time you start showing.**

 **Also, you guys are all probably playing on the forum right now :) If you don't know, I and some of the other Baltics writers on this site started a forum as a hangout place for Baltics writers. The link's on my profile if you want to check it out.**

 **Next chapter** ** **(for real this time!)** : School Daze, or, the Three Musketeers have competition now.**


	4. Ivan will never understand children

**School Daze**

* * *

 **Welp, college has started! I still haven't figured out how to balance writing with homework, so my already spotty updating schedule is going to be even worse now. Please be patient!**

* * *

 **I found out recently that Lithuanian names are conjugated; that is, the form of the surname varies depending on whether the bearer is male or female (and for female names, if she is married or unmarried). So it's not** ** _Laurinaitis_** **but** ** _Laurinaitytė,_** **because Viltė is female and unmarried. I did go back and change that; thank you so much to Mimiyo-san for letting me know.  
**

 **Also, please excuse any inaccuracies; I did not ever attend elementary school myself, so I don't actually know that much about it.**

* * *

On the first day of school, Raivis spent most of the morning coughing and looking pitiful.

"Oh, poor baby! Maybe he should stay home?" Ivan fretted. When Raivis perked up, Katya's eyes narrowed.

"Come here, Raivis," she said sternly, and felt his forehead. "You are perfectly fine! Go upstairs and get dressed!"

"I d-don't wanna go to school!" Raivis whined. "C-can't I stay here with you, Papa? Just for one more year?"

Ivan looked stricken. Katya was neither convinced nor amused.

"He only stammers when he wants something. Ignore him."

Raivis widened his blue eyes even further. Ivan winced. Raivis let his lower lip tremble slightly.

With great effort, Ivan turned away, carefully not looking at him.

"Go, uh, go ask your uncle. If he says you can stay home, you can stay home."

"Okay!" Raivis chirped, and raced off.

"See? He wasn't ill at all." Katya picked up her knitting again.

"What are you even making?" Ivan demanded. "I swear you've been working on that thing for years and it's still not done!" His eyes kept flickering to the closed door of Eduard's office.

"A blanket," she replied calmly. "Go put a glass to the door if you're that desperate to hear them, Vanechka."

Just then, said door burst open and Raivis came sprinting out, pajama-clad feet slapping on the floor. He did not stop to even glance at his father or his aunt; he skidded around the corner and, from the sound of it, took the stairs up to his room two at a time. Eduard, following him out into the living room at a rather more sedate pace, had a fond smile on his lips.

"What did you say to him, dear?" Katya laughed. Eduard shrugged.

"I just reminded him that Eiríkur goes to that school as well. Apparently, that was a pretty convincing argument."

Katya laughed harder. Ivan put his head in his hands. He was not cut out for this, he thought. Again.

* * *

Raivis gripped the straps of his backpack tightly with both hands as he slid out of the car. He liked his backpack - it was maroon with white stripes and Totya Natasha had bought it for him because she thought it looked "smart". She was always buying things for him. Raivis didn't quite understand why everyone thought Totya Natasha was scary.

"Now, you know our home phone number?"

"Yes, Papa."

"And my cell number?"

"Yes, Papa."

"And my work number?"

"Yes, Papa."

"And Uncle Eduard's cell number?"

" _Yes_ , Papa."

"And Aunt-"

"For heaven's sake, Brother, you'll make the boy late." Natalya shoved her brother out of the way and leaned out of the window. "Good luck, Rai! Don't do anything stupid or I'll rip your spleen out and make you eat it!"

"Yes, Totya!" No, Raivis didn't understand why people were afraid of his aunt. He squared his shoulders and strode forward. He was _ready_ for this! He was going to be the best student in the history of elementary school! He was-

"Be careful, moy myshonok! Remember, Papa loves you! Don't be scared!"

"Stop _blubbering_ , Vanya!"

Chubby cheeks burning, Raivis scurried through the huge double doors.

"Uncle Ivan's a bit embarrassing, isn't he?" Eiríkur smirked from where he was waiting in the lobby, lounging against the wall next to the attendance office. Raivis turned slightly to look out the glass of the doors; he could still see Ivan waving frantically.

"I bet your dad did the same thing," he accused, squirming. Thank heavens Ivan hadn't shouted his name out; he could maybe pretend it was someone else's father.

"Mamma and Pabbi are both working," Eiríkur said calmly, "so Aunt Aino dropped me off. She was very good about it. Did all her fussing at home. Except I had to sit next to Peter in the car and he kept pulling my hair." He grimaced slightly, then his face brightened. "Registration was funny, though. The lady at the desk didn't want to put my last name in as Sörensson because it's different from Pabbi's and Mamma's both. She was being really mean about it too. So Mamma went all quiet and hard like she does - you know? - and the lady got scared and said she would do it just stop looking at me like that, except then she couldn't even figure out how to put the dia- the um- the dots on the 'o'. So Mamma took the computer away and did it herself. And then we went for ice cream," he concluded. "And Pabbi bought me these new boots. Aren't they _neat_?" He extended a foot for Raivis's examination.

"Wow..." Raivis breathed. "They're so white and pretty..."

There was a tiny cough from behind him, and both boys turned.

"Do you know where Ms Peeters' room is?" the girl asked softly, cocking her head to the side. Her blond hair swung just below her chin, and a blue bow was tied neatly into it. She clutched her satchel as if her life depended on it. "I've been all over the school but I can't seem to find it."

"That's our c-class," Eiríkur stuttered. Raivis glanced at him. His cousin was staring at the girl and swallowing oddly. "I mean, we're... going there too... I, uh, th-think it's down here..." His voice trailed off. He was still staring.

"Thank you," the girl said kindly, and Raivis felt sorry for his smitten friend. "I'm Heidi, by the way. Heidi Vogel."

"Pleased to meet you," Raivis said politely, after a pause in which it became obvious that Eiríkur wasn't going to be saying anything. "My name's Raivis Braginsky. This is my cousin Eiríkur."

"...hi..." Eiríkur whispered, pale face flushing a deep pink. Raivis took him gently by the arm and led him down the hall, Heidi following close behind.

* * *

The schoolyard at the end of the day was even more crowded than it had been that morning, since everyone was pouring out of the school at once instead of being dropped off in ones and twos. Raivis shuffled through the crowd, tightly gripping his still-wet art project: a sunflower made out of macaroni noodles.

"It's for Papa," he told Eiríkur proudly. "Do you think he'll like it?"

"Heidi left as soon as the bell rang," Eiríkur said in a glum voice. "She said her brother was picking her up and he gets worried if she's late." He heaved a sigh, platinum blond locks falling over his face. He looked very tragic. "I wanted to talk to her some more..."

"There's always tomorrow," said Raivis practically. "Anyway, you talked to her most of the day. I wish you had let me sit by her, she seems really nice. I think we're gonna be good friends with her, right?"

Eiríkur nodded, a trifle more cheerful. "Aunt Natalya was going to pick us both up, right? Where did she say she was going to be?"

"Over there." Raivis nodded toward the smaller gate by the soccer field. "Actually, I think that's her! Come on!"

Natalya climbed out of the car with a smile. Well, Natalya rarely smiled, but her stern face was soft.

"How was school, boys?" she asked. Raivis bounced up and down.

"We counted and I can already count _past_ a hundred so the teacher said good job and we met a girl named Heidi who's really nice and Eiríkur thinks she's cute and we read some things and it was really easy so the teacher said good job again and we played soccer at recess and Eiríkur scored _two_ goals and this girl named Laura got a bloody nose and I said some things in Russian and everyone thought it was cool and I made this for Papa, look, and _Totya_ , are you even listening to me?"

"Who's that man?" she said abruptly. Raivis craned his head, following his aunt's gaze. The young man in question was loud enough that they could hear him even from across the field, and a cowlick stuck almost straight up from his wheat-colored hair.

"That must be Perri Jones' big brother Alfred," Raivis said. "I don't like Perri very much. She keeps petting my hair and it's weird."

"Mmm," said Natalya absently. "Wait a moment, will you? I'll be back in a second-"

As Raivis watched Natalya scribble a string of numbers on a piece of paper and hand it to Alfred Jones, he felt a strange jolt in his stomach, as if something had turned over inside him.

* * *

 **"Pabbi": Icelandic for Daddy**

 **Oh, Ivan... Y U so adorable?**

 **"I'll rip your spleen out and make you eat it!": This is the kind of ridiculous threat I use on my siblings. They know I don't mean it.**

 **"I had to sit next to Peter in the car": Peter is three at this point (he's the baby Aino was carrying last chapter). By next chapter, he will have been joined by Anika (** ** **Åland** ) and Siegfried (Ladonia). **

**"how to put the dia- the um- the dots on the 'o'": the words** **Eiríkur can't pronounce are 'diaeresis' and 'umlaut' respectively. Technically speaking, a diaeresis is different from an umlaut and Icelandic doesn't consider the letter ö to be either anyway, but in English all three are typed the same way (the keyboard shortcut for Windows is [Alt]+[0246], in case you were wondering). Also, he's six. Cut the kid some slack.**

 **Ms [Emma] Peeters: Belgium cameo.**

 **the whole thing with Icy and Liechtenstein: D'aww. Little kids' crushes are so adorable.**

 **"art project": I have no idea what you actually _do_ in grade school, but I've heard that art projects involving macaroni noodles feature prominently? Maybe? I really don't know... (I was homeschooled until ninth grade. Is it terribly obvious?)**

 **Laura: Wy cameo.**

 **And... I have bowed to your wishes and introduced BelAme into this thing! I don't know how much of their romance I'm actually going to write, but long story short poor Alfred doesn't know what is about to hit him.**

 **Also, Perri Jones is the OC of my friend Shadows in the Light of Day, and she has kindly given me permission to include her as a cameo. (She probably won't feature in the plot after this but I needed a way for Al and Natasha to meet and I just couldn't resist.) Perri is the personification of Panem in Shadow's Hetalia/Hunger Games crossover, _Written in Blood_ , which I encourage all of you to go read. It's really good!**


	5. I really need to stop doing POV cameos

**June, July, August**

* * *

 **Too many characters! Agh!**

 **Adults: Ivan, Eduard, Katya, Berwald, Aino, Tiril, Alfred, Natalya.  
**

 **Children: Søren [hah!], Siegfried,** ** **Perri, Raivis,**** ** **Eiríkur, Heidi,** Peter, Anika  
**

 **Also, this is kind of starting to get a bit - not darker, really, but there is some character development and hints of more serious things in the background. Don't worry too much about it. The point is still the fluff. :)**

* * *

 **This is basically how today went:**

 **Me: Yay! No class! I can work on** **подкидыш!**

 **Me: ...or I could binge-watch "The Beautiful World".**

 **Me: ...**

 **Me four hours later, having finished Beautiful World, World Twinkle, and half of World Series: You know, I should probably work on** **подкидыш.**

* * *

The adults were playing bocce.

Ivan threw his red ball and overshot - again. With a growl, he stomped backward, relinquishing his turn. "This is a stupid game," he grumbled. "It makes no sense."

Eduard did not look up from his book. "All you have to do in theory," he said, "is throw the ball with the same trajectory you threw the pallino with. Making appropriate compensation for the differing weight, of course. It's simple physics."

"Well then, why don't you get off your butt and show us?" Natalya said spitefully. She had yet to win a round.

"Because Ed is notoriously bad at translating theory into practice," said his wife, pitching a green ball and watching it roll lazily away from the cluster of bright colors in the middle of the yard. She frowned briefly. "Al? Would you like a turn?"

Alfred waved a languid hand. "Nah, I'm good," he drawled. His accent was soft and southern from having grown up in Texas, and seemed out of place among the Europeans.

Natalya folded her arms. "We have to redeem our family's honor somehow. Either you play with us or you go play with the children."

"Nat, I suck at bocce. You know that."

"Then go check on the kids. _Now_ , Alfred."

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, and heaved himself to his feet.

"Make sure Søren hasn't set anything on fire," Tiril reminded him in a cool voice.

"Get Siegfried off his computer." Berwald's low rumble.

"And pay some attention to your sister!" Natalya finished ominously. She picked up the scissors from the table and brandished them at her fiance.

Alfred swallowed, nodded, and set off.

Katya sighed and shook her head. "You're going to scare him away, Tashen'ka. The longer you're engaged the longer he has to come to his senses and back out."

"Then we will move the wedding up," Natalya said firmly. "Alfred _will_ marry me if I have to chain him to the altar."

Everyone except Tiril shuddered and moved away.

.

The front yard was in chaos when Alfred got there, but nothing appeared to be burning and no one appeared to be dead, which Alfred assumed was a good thing. There _was_ blood smeared on Peter's face, but that was probably from one of his multiple scabs and not from any deliberate malice.

Ah, who was he kidding? He didn't know a thing about kids.

"So how's everybody doing?" he said in a cheerful voice. Raivis looked up, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed. Heidi's party hat was tilted at a precarious angle.

"Hello, Mr Jones," she murmured politely.

"Go away, Uncle Alfred," said Eiríkur in a disdainful voice. "You're too loud. We just got rid of Uncle Søren, we don't need _you_."

Alfred glanced at his sister, who was trying very hard to pretend she wasn't listening.

"What if I'm quiet?" he asked. "Can I stay then?"

Raivis scowled. "We're playing a no-adults game. You're an adult, so you can't play."

"Aw, let him stay," said Perri abruptly. "It's not like he can do any more harm." She cast a rueful glance at the pile of random objects scattered around them.

"Yes, we should let him play with us," Heidi said softly. Eiríkur looked at her, looked at Alfred, and sighed.

"Whatever," he grumbled.

Alfred knelt in the circle of children. Perri bent her head so that her hair hid her face, but her slight smile shone through the brown curtain like a floodlight.

.

From the porch, Siegfried watched the others from over the top of his laptop.

"Aren't you going to join them?" Aino said. She was curled on the chair, fussing with the baby on her lap. Anika bubbled and tried to pull her mother's braids.

"No," said Siegfried, in his rough, scratchy voice, and almost immediately regretted it. He _liked_ Aino, even if she wasn't really his mother and didn't understand why he didn't like being around people. She kept trying to get him off the internet, where he was safe, and make him talk to people so that the words hung in the air and couldn't be backspaced and had to be said with the right tone of voice and body language. But she wasn't a _bad_ person, and so he tried to make up for the harshness by smiling. Like an emoticon. Show you didn't mean it. It seemed to work in Life too, because she smiled back.

"You know, Alfred's a nice guy, and his sister's pretty sweet too. You should really get to know them."

Ignoring people isn't an option in Life, so Siegfried said "Maybe later" and that seemed to satisfy her. She turned back to the baby. Siegfried pulled his computer closer to himself, like a shield, and wrinkled his scarred nose at mido864, who seemed to think that they could justify a Polish-Lithuanian-Prussian Empire by eliminating the Second Partition.

 _I hesitate to call ASBs,_ he typed, _but in the end either prussia or PLC had to give. its one or the other. France would never have tolerated that kind of power imbalnace on the european continent not to mention RUssia._

Computers made sense to Siegfried. People did not. He wished his foster parents would realize that.

.

The cake was blue and had been made by Berwald. Aino had offered, but after the salmiakki-and-fondant fiasco of 2009, no one really wanted to let her into the kitchen, and Søren was banned for life from anything that could potentially cause permanent damage to the house, like ovens, water, scissors, bubbles, cleaning supplies, markers, screwdrivers, lamps, and the television remote. Tiril had also offered, but she was already running herself ragged trying to set up everything else for the party, so Ivan had carefully and politely picked her up, slung her over his shoulder, and locked her in her bedroom until she fell asleep.

Eiríkur had regarded the preparations with a vaguely bored air. Raivis didn't understand why his cousin was so unexcited for his own birthday.

"It's like this every year, you know that. There's nothing to be excited about."

"Papa goes overboard for my birthday, too, and I still love it!"

"Blegh," was Eiríkur's response, as they lay stretched on the grass at the park. "Mother's just so- _embarrassing_ about it. I'm almost grown-up and she still treats me like a little kid. She keeps trying to get me to call her Mamma again. It's so annoying."

Raivis decided not to say that he would give quite a lot to be able to call someone Mama. He loved his father and all of his aunts and uncles, but he was beginning to be acutely aware of the fact that his family was not really 'normal' in the strictest sense of the word, and Eiríkur was his best friend but he didn't really understand what it meant to have never known his mother.

Oddly, it was Perri Jones of all people who seemed to understand best. He had been wary of Perri for a long time, because she was snippy and punched hard and was apparently obsessed with his hair, but with Totya Natasha dating Perri's older brother, they were forced to spend a lot of time together. Perri liked Natalya, who was beautiful and dangerous and insisted on including Perri in their family activities, and Raivis was slowly starting to realize that really Perri was just lonely.

"Al's a sucky brother," she had said once, in a rare moment of candor, "but he's all I've got."

"Do you remember your mom?" Raivis asked timidly. Perri squinted at the sky.

"Not really," she admitted. "Just that she was pretty, and had dark hair, and she smelled nice."

"I don't even have that," said Raivis softly, and Perri awkwardly patted his head.

"At least you've got Ivan. He adores you. And all your aunts are nice."

"Mm," he agreed. The pat turned into an absent-minded ruffle, which was oddly comforting, and Perri's eyes half-closed in pleasure as she ran her fingers through his thick curls.

"Have I told you how soft your hair is?" she breathed.

"Yes, Perri. You've told me." Multiple times.

* * *

It was summer, and the air was cool and the sky was purple and Natalya was fighting with Katya in the comfortable, lazy way that sisters fight about things they don't really care about. Eduard was ignoring them both, squinting at the packaging of the fireworks, and absentmindedly holding the lighter out of Raivis's reach.

"I am the only one allowed to touch this," he informed the air in general. "That includes you, Ivan. I don't trust you with fire."

"Can't I light the sparklers at least?" Ivan begged.

"If Papa gets to do it, I get to do it too!"

"No and _no_. And step back. If a firework hits you in the face I'm not paying your hospital bill."

Raivis pouted. Ivan's pout, thought Eduard, was rather more impressive. Neither pout was particularly effective.

"Go have some more watermelon. I doubt it's all gone, since Alfred isn't here. And for pity's sake leave me _alone_ so I can figure this out - my Japanese is dreadful and someone spilled grape juice on the English part."

Raivis stuck his tongue out. Eduard shook his head.

"Go bother the girls," he sighed.

"Fine. Come on, moy myshonok," grumbled Ivan. "Let's leave Edya to his oh-so-important _Chinese_."

"Japanese!" Eduard called after them as they strode away, Raivis almost sprinting to keep up with his father's long strides.

.

The sky was purple, but not for long. Yellow sunflowers, red carnations, green queen-anne's-lace, white yarrow bloomed in between the silver stars. The lights flickered on Eduard's glasses, cast shadows on Natalya's severe face, danced in Ivan's entranced violet eyes.

"Look, Raivis," he murmured softly. "Isn't it beautiful? Like flowers..."

"Yeah," Raivis said. He spoke softly, too, because it felt wrong somehow to disturb the cool night air with talking. The fireworks sang and the smell of gunpowder drifted past his nose, and he yawned. "'S pretty..."

"He's almost asleep," Katya whispered. "Shall I take him inside?"

"'M not asleep... Wanna watch more..."

Ivan shifted the boy on his lap so Katya could sit next to him. Her smile was tender, and she reached forward to smooth a lock of hair back from Raivis's forehead.

"We're so lucky," she said quietly. "Having him... it's such a blessing." There was a flash of grief across her face, and though it was gone quickly Ivan knew she was thinking again of the doctor who had destroyed her dearest wishes. Katya would have been a wonderful mother, he thought, and slipped a comforting arm around his big sister.

"Yes. It's a blessing," he agreed. Raivis sighed drowsily and snuggled into Ivan's chest, hands curling in his shirt.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Ivan said doubtfully.

"Absolutely!" Alfred flashed his American Smile(TM) at Raivis. "This is how I learned! I promise you'll be fine!" **  
**

"Okay!" Raivis chirped.

"Okay..." Ivan echoed. He still sounded unconvinced, but he lifted Raivis onto the red bike that was newly training-wheel-less and started fussing with his helmet. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Ivan. Dude. I'm not going to let him get hurt. You know what Nat would do to me?"

"Probably rip out your entrails and shove them-"

"That was a rhetorical question!" Alfred shuddered. "I love her, but honestly, sometimes..."

Ivan nodded vigorously."You should have seen her when she was little. No, actually, you shouldn't."

Alfred shuddered again, then turned to Raivis. "Ready, sport?"

Raivis gave him a thumbs up.

"Okay, moy myshonok. If you get too scared-"

"I'll be fine, Papa!" And Raivis gripped the handlebars, and Alfred rolled the bike forward, and Raivis put his feet on the pedals, and Alfred kept walking the bike, and they approached the edge of the hill-

Ivan covered his eyes.

-and Alfred let go and Raivis let out a shriek of mingled fear and exhilaration and worked his legs frantically-

"I can't. I can't watch," Ivan moaned.

-and there was an almighty crash from the bottom of the hill, where the mailbox was.

Ivan's knees went weak.

"Raivis!" he screamed. "Oh, baby, are you okay?"

From the wreckage popped the little red helmet, and Raivis blinked dizzily.

"That was _awesome_ ," he said. "I wanna do it again!"

Ivan had to go inside and sit down.

* * *

 _ **June...**_

 **Alfred's accent: I don't know why, but I can see him having that slow Texas drawl, can't you? (And it's _my_ AU, so I can do what I want! *sticks out tongue*) **

**Anika: Åland/Ahvenanmaa islands. Just because.  
**

 **Siegfried: Ladonia. What's basically going on with him is that Berwald the all-loving took in a foster child. He was neglected and due to that he has very few social skills, and he only really feels comfortable interacting with people over the Internet - I'm sure many of you can relate. :)**

 **ASBs: stands for "Alien Space Bats". Basically, when you're talking about an alternate timeline that's highly improbable, you refer to ASBs as a way of pointing out that you'd have to do a lot of hand-waving to get the timeline from that point of divergence. The conversation is based on an actual conversation on the alternatehistory-dot-com forum. PLC stands for 'Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth'; the spelling/capitalization errors are intentional.  
**

 **Perri: Shadow has me shipping PanLat so hard now... how could I resist? ;) Again, Perri/Panem is Shadows in the Light of Day's OC, used with permission. Go read Written in Blood. It's amazing.**

* * *

 _ **...July...**_

 **Japanese/Chinese: This is a conversation I have quite frequently. My siblings know it's Japanese, not Chinese, that I speak. They also know it irritates me when they confuse the two.**

 **The doctor: For various medical reasons, Katya can't have children. This has always been my greatest fear as well, and for her it was absolutely devastating.**

* * *

 _ **...and August.**_

 **That was, I kid you not, the way I learned to ride my bike. It traumatized me. :) I think it traumatized my mother more, though...**

* * *

 **Decisions, decisions... I have the next chapter planned out - it'll be Viltė's backstory. After that, I have no idea at all what to do. This was never intended to have a plot - was never intended to get this long, to be honest - but I feel like there's a lot more I could do with this AU. So I'm thinking that after the next chapter, if you have any suggestions I will happily use them. However, although I will be continuing to add on to it, I will be marking this story complete fairly soon.**


	6. Guess what? You get an actual wedding!

**What God has Joined Together**

* * *

 **I know I said Viltė next. I... cannot write angst right now. I _needed_ to write something fluffy. **

**My heart goes out to everyone affected by the attacks last night. "Tonight, we are all French".**

* * *

Raivis was almost asleep when the rock hit his window.

"Raii-viis!" came the whispered shout. He groaned and pushed the curtain back. As he'd thought, Perri was in the tree outside, readying another rock to throw. He hastily pushed the casement open.

"I'm up, I'm up! What is it?"

She frowned disapprovingly, green eyes glinting flatly in the moonlight. "Don't tell me you forgot."

"I didn't _forget_ ," Raivis hissed. "I never agreed to it in the first place. And I don't care how much you hit me, I'm not ruining Totya Natasha's wedding just because _you_ don't want to wear a dress."

Perri scowled.

"You know I need your help or it won't-"

"No. Take it up with Natasha," Raivis said firmly. He shut the window and went back to bed, trying to ignore the repeated thunks of pebbles on the glass.

Perri gave him the cold shoulder all throughout school the next day. Raivis did not particularly care.

It was spring, and the apricot tree in Raivis's backyard looked like it was covered in snow, the branches weighted down with blossoms. The sky was blue and clear and the air smelled delicious, and Raivis did not understand why he was stuck in school when it was so beautiful outside. He liked school, but this was absolutely criminal.

Eiríkur, who in May went through tissues like they were going out of fashion, disagreed with this assessment. The longer they stayed in school, the longer he could dodge the pollen that was making his life miserable.

"Oh, stop grousing, Erik," Heidi said, sliding a new box of tissues over to him. "It really is beautiful out. Anyway, Rai, you're getting out of school for the wedding next week, aren't you? It's going to be lovely!"

"If Totya Natasha can ever decide on a caterer, yeah, it'll be lovely. As it is, we're probably all going to starve."

"Don't be like that," Heidi chided. "She's been dreaming of this for years, of course she wants everything to be perfect."

"Maybe," said Raivis dubiously. "But I don't remember Totya Katya making this much of a fuss."

"You were two," Eiríkur pointed out. "I'b surbrised you rebeber adythig at all."

Raivis grunted.

"I remember _you_ not being surprised when your dad ended up tied to a chair."

"Why should I be surbrised?"

"Your entire family's nuts, Erik."

"Id's your fabily too." Eiríkur sneezed. "Cad I habe adother tissue, Heidi?"

.

"Are you done ignoring me?"

Raivis sighed. "I wasn't ignoring you, Perri. I just don't like it when you do the bitter-and-angry thing."

Perri tossed her head and scrawled something savagely on a box. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't care about the wedding, I just hate wearing skirts."

"You're scared," Raivis said bluntly. "You're worried about how much things are going to change and so you're taking it out on _me_."

"Wha-"

"And on Al and Natasha, too," he continued, smoothing newspaper around a stack of plates. "I don't really care if you act like a jerk to me, but it's their special day and they deserve to not have it ruined."

Perri stared at him. Then she brought the book she was holding down on his head.

"I'm. Not. Scared," she bit out. Raivis simply scooted away from her and went back to packing. They worked in silence for a while.

"That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one day," she said finally, her voice subdued.

"Probably," he agreed.

"You don't know when to shut up," Perri continued.

"I know."

She glanced at him. He concentrated hard on the label he was making.

"I'll wear the dress," she said, and he knew that was the closest to either an apology or an admission of acquiescence he was going to get from her. Tentatively, he put an arm around her, and she leaned into it a little.

"Everything okay in there?" Alfred asked, poking his head into the room. Perri jerked away as if Raivis had become hot, and said something that, to be fair, was a little less rude than the things she had been saying to her brother the last month or so, and practically shoved her face into the next box with a fierce scowl.

The aura of _someone noticed_ _someone listened_ that hung around her was almost tangible.

* * *

Perri wore the dress, and she looked beautiful. Raivis knew he would never, ever be able to tell her that, but he thought it all the same. She wasn't even scowling, as she stood beside Katya with a bouquet clutched in her hands like a lifeline. Raivis shifted on his feet, glancing up at the short Asian who was Alfred's best man. Mr Honda shot him a timid, but reassuring smile.

Alfred looked like he was about to throw up.

"All rise for the bride," the minister intoned, and the door opened, and at first Raivis thought his aunt was an actual angel, the way the white veil flowed down her back like folded wings, sunlight piercing through the window to make a halo of gold in her pale hair.

Natalya was _smiling_. Tears ran down her cheeks, and her smile was even more radiant than the sunlight on her hair.

She walked down the aisle with her head held high, hand resting gently on Ivan's arm, and she was _smiling_.

 _From here on, you are one and undivided_.

She'd had such a hard time finding a dress that suited her. The soft silk glistened like water down her arms, flowed from her hips, pooled on the ground, catching rainbows.

 _She will be your rock, your anchor, a reason to labor with all your strength. Cherish her._

Alfred's suit was wrinkled a little. He took her slim hands and stood straight and tall, as if he was a knight standing before his lady, ten feet tall as he pledged his loyalty and devotion.

 _He will be your protector, your defender, your shield against the troubles that beset the world. Support him.  
_

Her dark eyes were soft. She took in Alfred as if she would never look away again.

 _I take you to be my wife, Natalya..._

He still hadn't managed to tame the cowlick.

 _In wealth or in poverty..._

Her lipstick was smudged.

 _In sickness and in health..._

Someone in the back was having a sneezing fit.

 _I take you as my husband, Alfred...  
_

The rings seemed illuminated by an inner light as the simple bands slid over warm skin.

 _For time and all eternity._

 _._

The reception dinner was so mundane after that it was almost a letdown. Raivis snagged two plates and carried them through the crowd to where Perri was trying and failing not to get mud on her dress. He bowed gallantly as he offered her one. Perri took it and said, "You'd better not tell anyone I was crying."

"You were crying?"

She punched him.

"Ow! I mean... wow, it's kind of dusty in there, isn't it?"

"Hmph," she sniffed, appeased. "They just both look so _happy_. It's..."

"Pathetic?" That had been her usual designation of anything to do with the wedding.

"...cute," she confessed, looking away. "In a pathetic way, of course."

"You're not fooling anyone, Perri," Raivis laughed. Perri shook her head with a half-smile.

"Maybe..." she said, and trailed off speculatively.

Raivis shifted on his feet.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

She didn't answer.

"...Perri?"

She was still staring at him. A sinking feeling started inside him.

 _(But she really was very pretty.)_

* * *

 **I deny all reports that I was crying while writing the wedding scene.**

 **They're packing in the second scene because they're getting all of Alfred's and Perri's things ready to move into Natalya's house.**


	7. The one you've all been waiting for

**Well, we've come to the end, everyone. I've really enjoyed this story - you know, the one that was supposed to be a oneshot? - but I've had this ending planned for ages and I feel like it's time to use it.  
**

 **Also, yes. This is Viltė's backstory that I've been promising you basically since chapter one. (Also the longest chapter in this story!) It's a little melodramatic^^ especially in contrast to how slice-of-life this story has been so far, but I like it. I hope you enjoy it too!**

* * *

 **The Apple Doesn't Fall Far  
**

* * *

Viltė was in bed when the white-haired man first came. She didn't see him come; only heard quiet voices from downstairs as she ducked her head under the blankets and poked her teddy bear's nose, waiting to fall asleep.

"You should tell me a story!" she made the bear say, and she giggled.

"I don't know any stories, silly! Tėtis is the one who tells stories..."

"But he tells them to you all the time! You should know lots!" she made the bear say. "Like Rapunzel, or Vasilisa, or Eglė!"

"Yes, but Tėtis tells them so much better than I could." Viltė protested. She and the bear thought for a bit; then she brightened and started trying to shift the heavy covers back and pull her legs out from under them.

"But Tėtis said to stay in bed!" the bear reminded her.

"Oh hush," she said crossly. "Do you want a story or not?" She creaked the door open and padded down the hallway.

Her father was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his fingers pinched over the bridge of his nose like he had a headache and his eyebrows drawn together and his lips tight. He was saying something, softly but angrily, and as she leaned over the banister the call of "Tė..tis...?" died on her lips in confusion.

Her father's head snapped up. His eyes widened and his mouth opened; Viltė hadn't ever seen him look so scared before.

Then the man he had been talking to moved into view: his hair was white and his skin was pale and his eyes were _purple_. He looked at Viltė first in confusion, then in surprise, then in... she didn't recognize the emotion that flashed into those creepy reddish-blue eyes.

"Tėtis? Who's that—why are you looking at me like that?" She hugged Teddy close to her, a strange frightened feeling growing in her stomach. "Tėtis, what's going on?"

"Go back to bed, Viltė," her father said quietly.

"But—"

" _Now_."

She went.

But she didn't go all the way to her room. She ducked back behind the wall and pressed herself against it, fiddling with her long brown braid.

"You're a fool, Laurinaitis," said an unfamiliar voice, and she heard her father sigh heavily.

"I know."

"I mean it. How the hell did you expect—"

"I've made my choices, Gilbert," her father interrupted. "Most of them were mistakes. I know that. I _know_. But I have to live with them now. So just—just don't. Okay?"

He sounded so _tired_.

"They're losing patience." Scraping sounds. The other man—Gilbert—must have pulled out the big brown chair, the one with weird feet. "And here you've gone and saddled yourself with that kind of liability?"

"Didn't I _just say_ —?"

"I'm just stating the facts, man. I know you know there's only so much you can do right now. For yourself _or_ for her."

There was a long, long silence then. Viltė hurried back into her room and pulled the covers over her head and tried to sing herself to sleep. It didn't work.

"Viltelė?" came her father's soft voice, after what might have been hours or a few minutes, she didn't know. "Viltelė, sweetheart, come here."

She squirmed toward him under the quilt, and he knelt by the bed and stroked her hair.

"Viltelė, listen to me. If someone ever comes to see me, I want you to stay in your room, okay?"

"Why?"

His green eyes were sad. "Tėtis—Tėtis was stupid, and made friends with some bad people. If they knew about you, they would want to hurt you."

She bit her lip. "Tėtis? Am I a mistake?"

"No, Viltelė. I love you very much." He put a kiss on her nose, and patted Teddy on the head. "Now can you be a good girl and go to sleep for me? And in the morning, I'll tell you some stories, and you can read in my office while I work. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, and snuggled down on the pillow, and her father continued to sit beside her, his hand still moving absently through her bangs. He hummed quietly, and this time when she closed her eyes the darkness felt soft and welcoming.

.

She gripped her bag tightly to her chest and stared out the window of the bus. Her father had his face lowered, but she could still see the tightness of his mouth, and thought that maybe he was doing the same thing she was, and trying not to cry for her sake, the way she wasn't crying for his.

 _I don't want to leave_. But she didn't say it.

"Will you come to visit me sometimes?" she asked instead.

"I—I'll try."

She squeezed his hand.

"If the bad men get you, I won't forgive you," she threatened, and her father gave a short, sharp laugh.

"I'll be sure to tell them that!" He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. "Tell me again where you're going, Viltė."

"I'm going to Mr Gilbert's friend," she said confusedly—hadn't he already told her this?—and he shook his head and she saw that he wanted her to start pretending now. "To... my aunt?" She closed her eyes and thought hard. "Aunt Lizzy!" she said triumphantly. "Aunt Lizzy and Uncle Roddy!"

"Knowing Gilbert, Roddy's a nickname and one he hates," said her father drily. "Ask him what he wants you to call him. And... do what they say, alright? Obey them like you obey me." His voice was a little choked up again, and the bus was stopping. He whispered something; it sounded like a prayer.

She gripped her father's hand tightly as they stepped down. She could feel the clothes and books in her bag digging into her back, and there was a horribly fake smile plastered onto Tėtis's face.

"There you are, darling!" came a woman's voice—a tall woman swept up to them, her pretty green skirt swirling. She had a kind face, and brown hair like Tėtis but longer. "I've been waiting for you for ages! Oh, let me take your bag for you, honey, and when we get home Roderich has gingerbread for you."

Viltė nodded, and said uncertainly, "Th-thank you... Aunt Lizzy."

Lizzy smiled, and turned to Tėtis (who she couldn't call Tėtis anymore, _don't forget_!).

"Thank you so much for bringing her. You're very kind, sir."

Viltė's father nodded solemnly. "It was no trouble. Be good for your aunt and uncle, now!" And his voice cracked a little, and he bent toward her to whisper in her ear.

"Be—be happy, Viltelė. I—I love you."

Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck for a moment—but only for a moment, because he was supposed to be a stranger now, and little girls weren't supposed to hug strangers for as long as she wanted to hug him and to let him hold her (stroke her hair and tell her it was okay, that they were going home together). So Viltė let go after only a little bit, and then the woman gently took her hand, and murmured to her not to look back, to keep her eyes straight ahead, and she did, because she wasn't sure she wanted to see her father crying when she might not see him ever again.

.

There was a boy at her new school with soft pale hair and a sweet smile, who had a very thick accent that was sort of but not quite like her father's. His name was Vanya and he followed her around like a lost puppy, chirping at her in Russian.

"I'll be big one day and I'll protect you!" he told her once.

"What would you protect me _from_?" she asked sensibly.

"Evil knights!" he proclaimed immediately. "Or—or—"

"Those aren't real anymore," she explained. "And I don't need you to protect me."

He spent the rest of the day sulking.

In the end, as an apology she invited him to the birthday party her new guardians were having for her. She didn't really want to have a celebration, not when her father had been gone for five months now and she missed him more every day. But Lizzy was so excited and Roderich was testing cake recipes and Vanya wanted to know if she wanted a hamster and so she practiced an elegant, grown-up smile and wore a pretty green dress and tried to keep herself from glancing at the door every five minutes.

"It _bit_ me!" Vanya exclaimed in outrage, shoving the cage into her hands and presenting his bandaged finger for inspection. The hamster sat there with a smug look on its fat, fluffy face, and she kissed Vanya's finger "better" and looked at the door again.

Cake. Ice cream. A pinata shaped like a tree. She sat on her bed with her knees drawn up to her chest and fed the hamster celery, the moon shining through her window in a velvety-dark sky.

A pebble hit the window. She leaped up and pushed it open.

"Won't you let down your hair?" said a soft voice, and Viltė almost screamed with joy.

 _"Tėtis_ ," she breathed, and ran downstairs to wrench open the back door. A quick struggle with the deadbolt so she could launch herself onto the porch—her father caught her in his arms and buried his face in her hair.

"Happy birthday, dearest," was the first thing he said, after a long, sweet silence full of kisses and tears.

"You came—I _knew_ you'd come! I didn't tell anyone but I was sure you'd come!"

He kissed her forehead.

"I've missed you so much, Viltelė," he whispered. "Oh, you've grown so much—are they treating you well? Are you happy here?"

"They're really nice," she said, and he sagged in relief. "I'd rather be with you, though, Tėtis."

"No, Viltelė. You don't."

She pouted.

"Will you come again?"

He shook his head.

"I can't, sweetheart. It's still not safe, I shouldn't have come _now."_

"Take me with you," she begged. He said nothing; only held her tightly.

"I love you, Tėtis!"

"I love you too—"

She pulled away. "No you don't! If you loved me you wouldn't have left!"

"I'm trying to keep you _safe,_ Viltė!"

He was crying. That calmed her down.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"It won't be forever," her father promised. "I'll come back once it's safe, and we can be together again. Can you be a good girl for me, Viltelė? Can you be a good girl and wait?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I'll—I'll wait for you. And I'll... I'll try to be happy here. It's hard, but I'll try."

"That's my girl," he murmured, and kissed her again.

"Will you sing me a song, Tėtis?"

He pulled her onto his lap and sang quietly into her ear. She pulled the memory deep inside her, where it would fill up the empty hurt when he left again.

.

She discovered that the best way to stop adults from asking about her real family was to look sad and tell the truth: she had loved her father very much and she wished he would come back. Then she let them fill in the blanks themselves.

Other children required more careful handling, because being cagey just sparked their curiosity further. Ivan turned out to be very good at making people stop bothering her; he accepted that she didn't want to talk about it and ruthlessly drove off questioners. She decided that she liked Ivan; he was already huge and sometimes broke things without noticing, but he made her feel safe and liked.

Between him and Elizaveta and Roderich, she adjusted. She didn't _like_ seeing the name Edelstein on everything (ugly German name —she wanted her own name back, the lovely gliding lilt of her father's native tongue) but it was only temporary, after all. She wrote letters to her father, about school projects and about Ivan's clumsiness and about Roderich's piano playing and Elizaveta's drawing. She knew she couldn't send them to him, but she could keep them in a box, decorated with colored paper and ribbons like a Christmas gift. _You'll be really upset that you missed so much of me growing up_ , she wrote in one of them, _so I saved pieces of my childhood to give to you when you come back_.

She liked that line a lot. It was pretty, as so much of her writing was not.

.

It was spring when Roderich handed her a letter, crinkled with spots of something brown on it, and said it was from Gilbert, the white-haired man who had arranged for her to be sent away.

The only words on the note were _Your father is dead. I'm sorry._

Viltė turned on the gas stove and slowly, methodically burned the paper. Then she went to call Ivan and tell him she wouldn't be able to meet him to work on that history project after all, she wasn't feeling well, no, no, she'd be fine in the morning it was just a stomachache. Which wasn't technically a lie; the piercing hurt went all the way through her body, wrenching at her gut as well as her tight throat and burning eyes. She locked the door of her bedroom and made sure to do all of her screaming into a pillow: Elizaveta was taking a nap, and it would be inconsiderate to wake her up.

.

Junior high for her was mostly acne and ripped jeans and a reputation for being distant and secretive; Viltė found it difficult to care. She kept her grades up and played pick-up basketball and went out for ice cream with Ivan every weekend, and she took it in stride when her newly-adolescent body started doing things she wasn't sure she liked. The letter-box was getting full; she made a second one.

 _(I'll never forgive you_. If he'd really loved her he wouldn't have _died_.)

.

"I got soda up my nose because of you!" Ivan accused.

"That _wasn't my fault_."

"It was too! Own up, Viltė—"

"Vanya, people are staring at us!"

Ivan poked at his sandwich with a straw, his sandy hair flopping over his face. Viltė kicked him under the table and looked around the diner, feeling the ends of her own hair tickling her chin. She'd only had the haircut for a week, and it still felt odd to her, to have so little weight on her head; to catch sight of herself in the reflective window and see the father whose face she was starting to forget.

"Anyway, how did finals go for you? I'm pretty sure I failed Bio."

"You've never failed a test in your life, Viltė, don't make me laugh again."

"I _just said_ —"

"My mother," said Ivan glumly, "is going to string me up by my thumbs when she sees my history grade. I hate high school..."

"I offered to tutor you. And _you_ said 'oh no I'll be fine!' Having fun eating your words?"

"No, I'm eating a sandwich."

" ** _Van_** ya..."

"Was that a figure of speech?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

Viltė groaned and looked around again. There was a guy in sunglasses and a hat in one corner who had his face turned in their direction and was probably deciding they were on a date. She wondered if she should wave sarcastically at him and see if it would make him mind his own business.

The man tilted his head and a shock of silver-white hair fell out of the hat.

"I have to go to the restroom," she said abruptly, standing, and Ivan moved his big legs out of her way so she could squeeze out from behind the table. The hallway in front of the bathrooms was dark and empty.

"Did you know you look exactly like him? It's not doing you any favors, you know."

"What are you doing here, Gilbert?" she hissed. Hopefully it wasn't too dark for him to see in her eyes how much she _hated_ him.

" _Trying_ ," Gilbert drawled, "to save your life. Again. I mean if you want to get killed that's your business but I owe it to him to at least try."

She was quiet for a while.

"Do you know what the Mafia is?" Gilbert said.

"Yes. I'm not _stupid_."

"We're not the Mafia, but something sort of like it. Not gonna give you any details."

She frowned. "And Tėtis was involved somehow."

"Ooh, you're an _intellectual_. Yes, he was involved. Why do you think he died? Anyway. I came to warn you. They finally figured out you exist, so they'll be around soon."

"My father's been dead for almost five years—why are they coming after me?" Her laugh was like a sob. "I've never—what do they want from me?"

"Who knows? Yao's crazy. But he's made his orders pretty clear. They're supposed to find you and I don't know how close they are yet."

Viltė put her head in her hands for a moment. "What—what do I do?" she whispered.

"Be ready. If I tell you it's time to leave, you gotta leave." His face was hard. "They're not supposed to touch Liz, but I don't want her involved much longer. You weren't gonna be here this long, that was never the plan."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?"

Gilbert snorted. "Take a guess."

"You must have—have cared about Tėtis a lot."

"Are you _kidding_?" Gilbert gave an ugly, barking laugh. "I hated your father. I hated his guts like you wouldn't believe. But he saved my life, a couple of times, and I hate owing people even worse."

It was like something out of a book, Viltė thought as she folded shirts into a backpack. Like a crime novel, one of the ones no one liked to read because they were so ridiculously melodramatic. Her _life_ was like a bad novel, and always had been, and now the climax was coming and the author was pulling things out of the air to make it more interesting.

She put a rubber band around a stack of 20-dollar bills and shoved it between the clothes.

Crime novels don't usually have happy endings.

"I love you, Viltė."

And she stared at Ivan and wanted to cry at how hopeful he looked; ice cream and holding hands and once an awkward kiss, because he'd had a date and didn't know how to do it and didn't want to embarrass himself.

"I'm—I'm so _sorry_ , Vanya," she whispered. And he nodded once, and she could see his heart breaking.

She loved him so much.

 _I understand now, Tėtis._

It was the last letter she wrote; she wrote it and burned it and then burned the rest, starting with the first ones and their childish, hopeful scrawl.

She didn't leave a note for Elizaveta and Roderich.

* * *

It had taken her a few months to get used to Feliks calling her Tori, but he was good at covering for her delayed reaction time; if all else failed, she could blame it on how loud the bar was.

She rather liked Feliks. (Even if he insisted on wearing makeup —and sometimes, a skirt —to work and tended to leave her to do the nastier parts of cleanup.) He'd made it quite clear that he knew Victoria Wilkowski was not her real name, and it was just as obvious that he didn't plan to ask questions about it. They lived in the same cheap apartment building, two doors apart, and arranged their shifts so they could walk to and from work together.

Once she'd settled into a routine, Viltė found that the feeling of _danger_ started to ebb away. It didn't feel like she was hiding, after a couple years of scrubbing sticky tables and shutting down drunken fights and laughing with Feliks over cheap pizza. It was just her life.

There was a young man who visited the bar sometimes, with curly blond hair and light, lavender-blue eyes and a round face that made him look far too young to be drinking. His name was Raivis Galante; he blushed furiously and stammered and couldn't ever quite meet her gaze.

Every time she looked at him she saw Ivan instead.

Agreeing to a date with him was a mistake. The next date was a mistake too. Sleeping with him was yet another. The panic when she missed her first period left her sobbing on the bathroom floor of her tiny apartment. _Please help me, T_ _ _ė_ tis, _she begged, _you were so much stronger than I am, why can't I learn, why?_ No answer. There never was. So she squared her shoulders and went to work the next day as if nothing was wrong.

"I've been accepted to Ohio State," Raivis told her eventually, in his soft shy voice, twisting his glass in his hands.

"So you'll be moving then?" She kept her own voice even. He nodded.

"I... we could try..."

"I'm not good at long-distance relationships," she said flatly. He stared at the beer, probably remembering her warning before the first date, _I have problems with commitment_.

He deserved so much better than her.

"I love you, Tori..." he whispered. And she was silent. He couldn't love Tori because Tori wasn't real; she shouldn't have forgotten, shouldn't have let herself become so careless. Shouldn't have let herself break someone else's heart. (Every time she looked at him, she saw a different set of purple eyes, a lighter shade of blond hair, and her bones ached with self-hatred.)

She let him kiss her again, and when the baby came she gave him his father's name, and that was all she allowed herself. No more closeness. Even Feliks, she started to push away.

But her little Rai... well, when his tiny pink mouth was sucking contentedly under her shirt, she wondered how her father had been able to let her go.

.

"Who's a good baby? Who's a good baby?"

Raivis scrunched up his tiny eyes.

" _You_ are!" Feliks cheered, and nuzzled the baby's face with his nose. "Ow! Tori, he keeps grabbing my hair!"

"Pull it back!" she shouted. "Or you could put him down and come _help_ me like you're getting _paid_ to do!"

Feliks groaned and set the infant back in his basket. "Your mama's no fun, no she isn't," he cooed.

"Stop trying to turn him against me!"

"Ugh, I'm coming! I'm coming already!"

"Lazy butt," Tori grumbled. Feliks ignored her and took some more glasses down.

"Hey Tori?"

She turned to the woman who had addressed her.

"I met a guy on the way here. Albino, about my height? He said to tell you he can't do anything else." She hesitated; then, "He was bleeding. He was trying to hide it."

Tori blinked. Then she swallowed.

"Thank you, Michelle. The usual for you?"

She poured the shot with slightly shaking hands, before Feliks pulled her aside, letting his carefree grin slip off his face for once.

"Go on," he said quietly. "I'll mind the bar."

"I _—_ "

"I don't know, I don't care. Get Rai out and stay safe, Tori."

He pushed her through the back door. Then he went back to the front and poured drinks with a lazy smirk.

"Doesn't a girl usually do this?" said the short, scowling man who walked in an hour later. He had an Italian accent, and another man followed him with a vacant smile.

Feliks didn't like them.

"Am I, like, not good enough for you or something?" he complained, jutting a hip out and pursing his lipsticked mouth.

"Of course not!" chirped the dumb one. "I'm sure you're perfectly wonderful! It's just we're looking for a friend of ours and we thought she worked here!"

Feliks _really_ didn't like them.

"I don't, like, know everyone who, like, works here." He looked at the scowly one, brightened his smile, and drawled, "What's her name? I can, like, totally ask around, but, like, I dunno if I'll, like, know her." The scowly one's eyebrow was twitching.

He said "totally" again for good measure.

 _In and out, that was all she needed; she'd had the big cardboard box ready for weeks now, but she should have taken him earlier, shouldn't have tried to keep him with her just a little longer. Well, it was too late now; she would just have to deal with the consequences. The baby was squirming in his sling, mouth screwed up unhappily.  
_

 _"Sh. Sh, sweetheart, don't cry." She rocked him until he was yawning and quiet, and then stuffed some blankets in the box, on top of the bags of clothes. It was cold out—it would probably rain later. She grabbed her umbrella and the masking tape. (It wasn't like she'd need it any longer.)_

 _No one on the bus gave her a second glance. She balanced the box on her lap, bounced Raivis on her shoulder. Just another girl with a baby. He tugged at her hair with a fat fist and bubbled.  
_

 _(And her feet took her right to the sunny yellow door, and she could see a fire flickering through the window. He was probably sitting up late to finish a book—people change, but not that much—)_

 _She tucked the blankets around her baby, kissed his forehead, her throat tight and freezing rain pouring down her back. Then she started running._

.

"I'd like to know why you're all the way out here. You just keep running and running, bella, like a little rabbit. _—_ Feli, put that _down_."

The other man's brilliant smile faded into a pout. Viltė drew her knees up to her chest, rocking back awkwardly with bound hands and a bloody back. She could barely think through the pain.

She wished they would just kill her already.

"You're very brave, bella." The short one in brown crouched beside her, breath tickling her ear. "I'll do it quickly, just for you. I hate killing children." She stiffened a little. "So young. I don't understand Yao at all. But I'm not paid to understand him!" Cold and hard and _cold_ against her skin. "Sweet dreams, Laurinaitis."

"Laurinaitytė," she croaked. "It declines."

He snorted and pulled the trigger.

 _please let him be happy_

Her vision went black.

* * *

And now, the sky is indigo and scattered with tiny pinpricks of light. Raivis grips the corsage so tightly one of the petals tears off. His face goes even paler and he says a very quiet word in Russian.

"Perri's gonna _murder_ me," he whispers.

"She'll wait until after the dance, won't she?" says Eirikur. "...won't she?"

Upstairs, Heidi is fussing with Perri's hair. She sticks another flower-ended pin in the elaborate updo, frowns, and takes it out again. Perri smoothes her long green gown against her thighs, feeling the silky petticoats slide across her skin. She feels... surprisingly pretty. Maybe the dress was worth it. At least for tonight.

Heidi's dress is a soft shell pink, matching ribbons tumbling through her short curls. "Turn around," she orders.

"Are you done?"

"With your hair, yes. Let me touch up your makeup. I think you should use a darker lipstick."

"But I like the red," Perri protests.

"That's not red. That's coral. And your dress is too deep to pull it off."

"Fine. Whatever. Just make sure all my freckles are covered, will you?"

"Aw, but they're so cute!"

"I don't want _cute_ , not tonight. I want elegant."

Heidi snorts and picks up a wide brush. "You're six inches taller than your date. Good luck with that." Perri shuffles her thin flats under her skirt. Heidi is in heels, but then Erik hit a growth spurt a few months ago and Heidi's frame has always been petite. She can afford it.

"I'm not letting him ask me out again until he's taller than me," Perri declares sullenly.

Heidi seems to think that's hilarious.

"Alright," she says finally. "You're gorgeous, Perri. Let's go."

Perri swallows and puts her foot on the stairs. Raivis is standing at the bottom, blushing furiously.

She takes his hand, and he slips the mangled corsage over her thin wrist.

* * *

 _ **The Root...**_

 **-Rapunzel: a German fairy tale. A girl is imprisoned by a witch, with her own hair the only way up and down from her tower. She falls in love with a prince who attempts to rescue her and gets himself blinded and almost killed for his troubles.**

 **-Vasilisa: a Russian fairy tale. Vasilisa's stepmother hates her and tries to kill her by sending her to beg favors from the hag Baba Yaga, but a magical doll helps Vasilisa complete her tasks and even get on the witch's good side. Then Baba Yaga burns the stepmother to ashes.  
**

 **-Eglė: a Lithuanian folk tale. Due to a foolish bargain, Eglė is forced to marry the Prince of Serpents. She gradually comes to love her husband, but then her brothers murder him after threatening her children into betraying him.**

 **...I'm assuming the versions of these stories Viltė heard from her father were _heavily_ edited.  
**

 **Tėtis: Lithuanian, "father"**

 **Viltelė: Lithuanian, a diminutive form of "Viltė" (note that it showed up in Google when I searched it, but I'm not sure how common it actually is, so definitely comment if there's something that would sound more natural!)**

* * *

 _ **The Tree...**_

 **Victoria Wilkowski: Wilkowski (Wilkowska) is the Polish form of Vilkauskaus (Vilkauskait** ** **ė** ). I derived it from the word for "wolf" because I'm a dork, but it's an actual name ^^ _Viktorija_ is a rather common name for nyo!Lithuania, although I don't really like it very much, and tend to use it for her 2p instead.  
**

 **Ohio State: Raivis Senior is going to grad school. Engineering, in case anyone was interested ^^ (School chosen because it's my father's alma mater** **—I have no idea how good the engineering program actually is!)**

 **Also, I've never been to a bar in my life. Just for the record.**

 **Also for the record, this plotline made a lot more sense before I started writing it down. (^_^;) The chronology is all wrong, I'm pretty sure... But! Evil Italy brothers!  
**

* * *

 _ **and The Apple**_

 **Don't really have anything to say here? Except that this is the perfect ending in my opinion, and also PanLiech girl time! I really like those two as friends...**

* * *

 **And with that, "Foundling" comes to an end. Merry Christmas to all of my followers, and thank you so much for all of your support throughout this year! This story would have stayed a oneshot without your encouragement. I love you all.  
**

 **~Firebird**


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